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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29155791">Rant and Rave</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako'>JauntyHako</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Darts-based political expansionism, Date Night at the Brujah Rant and Rave, F/M, Lovestruck Nines Rodriguez, M/M, Other, Ungendered Fledgling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:54:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29155791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nines is working up the courage to ask the Fledgling out on a date. Their friends are less than helpful.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nines Rodriguez/Fledgling, Nines Rodriguez/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rant and Rave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally a scene from my other VtM fic that I had to edit out because it messed up the pacing. I reworked it, made it so it can be read as a standalone, and added the actual date for good measure. Hope you enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Anarchs didn't meet at the Last Round anymore.</p>
<p>In the span of two weeks, two blood hunts had been called on one of their own, first against Nines, then the Fledgling. And granted, they had only cautiously accepted the Fledgling as one of their own before LaCroix condemned them, but a blood hunt on an Anarch was a blood hunt on an Anarch and just because LaCroix and Strauss had bit the dust didn't mean they were out of the woods.</p>
<p>So after figuratively, and in Damsel's case literally, torching their havens and abandoning their usual haunts, going on the run for a few months and escaping death by a hair's breadth, Nines' coterie set up in the rafters of a brewery. Because that's what their movement had been missing. The even more overpowering stench of beer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The place had been made almost homely. In the fashion of true squatters, the Anarchs had scavenged furniture left on sidewalks, an eclectic mix of an ugly chaiselounge, a marginally better looking armchair, and a scorched chesterfield sofa that the Fledgling was at least sixty percent sure had somehow survived the explosion at Venture Tower only to end up in the den of its owner's declared and victorious enemy. <br/>Crates provided storage and shelf space, a small battery of desk lamps had been plugged into power strips which in turn had been plugged into other power strips. Every window and crevice had been covered with clothes, rolls of fabric, and in one case a mattress to prevent any light getting out and alerting noisy neighbours. <br/>The whole space was fiery destruction waiting to happen and thus an apt analogy for the movement at large.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nines lounged on the floor in front of the Chesterfield sofa, either not trusting its integrity or fearing he might catch Camarilla cooties, and threw darts at a map of LA. He had one arm thrown over the cushioning, but moved it aside when the Fledgling approached, testing the couch for its give and deciding that no, they didn't believe in it quite enough to entrust it with their comfort and dignity. Nines grinned when they settled down beside him, and handed them a dart.</p>
<p>"Throw it."</p>
<p>The Fledgling did. It landed with a thwack in the middle of Sherman Oaks. Nines whistled appreciatively. </p>
<p>"Nice."<br/>"What did I just decide?" The Fledgling asked, mustering mild curiosity. </p>
<p>The air stood still, cool and fresh in the way a closed room could only be when occupied entirely by Kindred who didn't breathe or sweat. <br/>Next to them Nines emanated just a hint of warmth, almost alive like a Kindred who'd fed recently. Nines liked to hunt his prey, creeped out by feeding in any other way. He must have been out before he came here, stalked a kine into an abandoned alley, probably given them a sporting chance before taking what he needed, plus a little extra cash. Waking up with a headache in an abandoned alley was made more explainable, and strangely less upsetting, when one was missing their wallet. <br/>The Fledgling didn't know exactly where Nines' tastes veered, but the wallets he used to pay for his various expenses always looked nicer than the kind the Fledgling would have spent money on in their living days.</p>
<p>"Which neighbourhood we're kicking those Camarilla assholes out of next."</p>
<p>The Fledgling chanced another look at the map. Nearly every square had been hit by a dart by now. Some straight and deep like their own and Nines', some decidedly more wobbly, the result of everyone having a go. The Anarchs rode a high, and although they were few - less than a dozen, including the new recruits - the Camarilla balanced on an even more precarious line between survival and utter defeat. </p>
<p>"So is this the plan for this week or are we taking it slow and making a month out of it?"</p>
<p>That coaxed a chuckle out of Nines. The Fledgling turned to him, grinning at their own joke, coming almost nose to nose with him. Had they sat down so close to him? By now they were shoulder to shoulder, Nines' knee knocking loosely against theirs. He glanced down at their lips, leaning in a little, not into a kiss, but into playing with the thought of it. The Fledgling swallowed, let their tongue dart out over their lips just to give Nines something to look at. A part of them still expected him to draw in his breath, perhaps hold it, or let it out in a soft sigh. None of that happened of course, not unless Nines put conscious thought into the act. And his thoughts were on something else entirely. </p>
<p>"Like it when you say 'we'," he said whisper soft. </p>
<p>The world had fallen away beyond the space between them. Music played, but softly in the background. It became simple noise, indistinguishable from the conversations, the sounds of the creaking rafters, the faraway howl of sirens. </p>
<p>"Oh?" The Fledgling let themself sag against Nines, an implication of motion more than an actual act. Plausible deniability. "And if I were to say that I'll be an Anarch until my Final Death, would you like that, too?"</p>
<p>Nines nodded, eyes glued to their mouth. </p>
<p>"And I suppose you'd like to hear that I'd fight every Camarilla by myself to keep LA free."<br/>"But you don't have to," Nines said. </p>
<p>The Fledgling smiled. Their lips almost touched. </p>
<p>"Because <i>we're</i> a team. Us against the world. And we're winning."<br/>"Yes ..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just then, in the span between not-kissing and kissing, the loudest, wettest belch ripped the moment clean in half. The romantic mood vanished along with the good air.</p>
<p>Nines sighed and pressed his forehead against their shoulder, shaking his head in fond if a little strained exasperation. <br/>It was Jack, throwing up his arms in victory and doing a little lap around the rafters, while Damsel cursed and chugged something red and fizzing out of a glass, taking elaborate breaths to enter what the Fledgling was beginning to realise a competition in the making. </p>
<p>"They're us, too," the Fledgling said, pushing at Nines a little to let them get up. </p>
<p>His grin came out a little crooked.</p>
<p>"Don't remind me."</p>
<p>Nines followed them up. Before he could ask what on earth his coterie was doing, beside the obvious, Damsel let out another remarkable example of burping gone wrong. Hers was not only louder, but showed remarkable variance in pitch and cadence. The smell of blood filled the air, solving the mystery of what was in their glasses.<br/>"Carbonated blood bags?" Nines asked with the air of a man who tried for parental disapproval but far too conspicuously searched for another bloody glass.</p>
<p>"Carbonated blood bags," Skelter confirmed, handing Nines a full glass and toasting him before drinking the whole thing down in one go. </p>
<p>Nines chugged his down right after and then all eyes were on the Fledgling.</p>
<p>"Come on, you gotta," Damsel pushed a full glass of sparkling blood at them. "Chug."</p>
<p>And like an undead frat party, like a troupe of kindergarteners resorting to peer pressure, like a mischief of punks, they all fell in: "Chug. Chug. Chug. Chug."</p>
<p>The Fledgling laughed, raised their hands in defeat and tipped back their head as they emptied the glass.</p>
<p>They didn't notice Nines hypnotically watching their throat work as they swallowed mouthfuls of blood without stopping, but Skelter certainly did. He elbowed Jack in the side and pointed at Nines. They laughed, the dig altogether unsubtle but nevertheless going right past Nines. Any teasing fell by the wayside as Skelter submitted his entry in the burping contest, followed closely by Nines who went head to head with Damsel with a performance truly worthy of a Kindred who'd tangled with a werewolf and lived.</p>
<p>Damsel won the contest, but everyone agreed the Fledgling had given a respectable showing. Skelter received an honorary award for the burp most sounding like a word, although no one could agree on what that word had been. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of their people had gotten a radio up here a while ago. An old beat up thing from the eighties, and thus still younger than everyone except the Fledgling. A station played music that would be around Skelter's age, in-between the casual announcements of the night DJ. </p>
<p>Some Kindred kept these stations alive. Probably Camarilla, with their love for meddling in kine affairs, but just in this the Anarchs didn't mind their involvement so much. A world populated by the everliving undead, it created some niches for nostalgic entertainment. Even hidden among the kine blissfully unaware of the predators in their midst, the Kindred made their mark on the world, centuries after they were supposed to bite the dust.</p>
<p>Skelter sang along to the next song that came on, out of tune and half ironic. At least in company he didn't dare sing earnestly. One of these days, and if they were a couple hundred years away, the Fledgling would find out if he sang more passionately when he could trust no one would laugh at him. Like Damsel did, snorting in a decidedly undignified manner, and when she got bored of that, started making up the words to the next verse, badly rhymed and not a single word rated G.</p>
<p>Jack cleared out shortly after, off on some Anarch business. For the rest of LA's Anarchs there was little to do except enjoy themselves and wait for the next opportunity to kick Camarilla ass. There were times like that. </p>
<p>Some nights one thing came right on top of the other, until the Fledgling and their allies went home by the skin of their teeth, all energy and resources expended just to stay alive.</p>
<p>Others it was like this, a slow evening turning into an even slower night, waiting for a sign that called them to action again. Granted, the Fledgling technically did have a lot to do. Setting up one's life for eternity took some work, after all. Money, shelter, a steady supply of blood, all of these things needed to be acquired in some way or another and for the foreseeable future. <br/>Eventually they'd need another mortal identity, a set of contacts and allies to supplement those the Anarchs provided. But while these things were important, there was no need rushing them. Just for one night, the Fledgling could lean back and enjoy the company of their friends without worrying about the future.</p>
<p>Nines carried similar sentiments, because he moved back into the Fledgling's space after their impromptu belching contest.</p>
<p>"Been meaning to ask," he said, messing up his hair as he searched for the right words. "With things being quiet right now ..."</p>
<p>He stopped, still tugging at the short hairs at his nape, smiling uncertainly when the Fledgling leaned against the wall, expectantly waiting for him to make a move.</p>
<p>"Yes ...?" they prompted when he took his sweet time.</p>
<p>"Look, uh ... shit, this is all kinds of inappropriate. You're young, you don't know a ton of people outside us ..."</p>
<p>The Fledgling raised an eyebrow. Nines cursed again, turned on his heel to hide his expression. Then turned back around, with newly mustered determination. </p>
<p>"I was wondering if-"<br/>"Nines!"</p>
<p>The combined mass and strength of Skelter barrelled into him. Nines yelped, trying to catch his footing but tumbled forward and down in a heap. It was all the Fledgling could to to sidestep the inevitable as they watched Skelter straddling Nines' hips, ruffling his hair and trying to trap him in a headlock.</p>
<p>"There's a concert nearby, come hunting with me."</p>
<p>Skelter gave him no time to respond, wrestling him back to the ground when Nines got a hold and tried to get up. They laughed, Nines finally pushed him off, scrambling to his feet only for Skelter to swipe at his legs and bring him down again, determined to wrestle a yes out of Nines if that was what it took. </p>
<p>"I already ... shit, get off ... went hunting tonight. Skelter, fucking hell, get off me or I'll rip your leg off!"</p>
<p>Nines' threat was made somewhat less intimidating by the fact that he couldn't quite contain his infectious laughter at their rough-housing. <br/>Skelter, getting the hint in the form of an elbow to his face, turned his attention towards the Fledgling.</p>
<p>"Already had dinner," the Fledgling said, not moving an inch and daring Skelter to try his tactic on them. </p>
<p>Wisely, he didn't.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Skelter took one of the new Anarch recruits out to hunt, throwing Nines and the Fledgling betrayed looks the whole time. With only three Anarchs remaining, the place quieted down markedly. Damsel roped Nines and the Fledgling into playing cards. When the Fledgling suggested one of these days bringing a TV and playstation up here they were met with a pair of blank looks. <br/>Right. <br/>With their youthful looks and gung-ho attitudes it was easy to forget that both Damsel and Nines qualified for senior discounts at the local theatre. In fact, the Fledgling did the math in their head, Nines was just a few months away from triple digits. <br/>Nines, gracefully, at least pretended to give the idea some thought. </p>
<p>"You could teach me how to use it," he said, realised what he'd said, and backpedalled. "I mean, us. You could teach us."</p>
<p>Damsel snorted and stealthily switched some of her cards with Nines'. </p>
<p>"Why not? Some one-on-one lessons, perhaps."</p>
<p>The Fledgling's voice dropped a sultry octave, revealing their cards as they leaned towards him.</p>
<p>"Nines."<br/>"Most effective that way ..."<br/>"Hm-hmm. We could make it interesting, too."<br/>"Nines."<br/>"Yeah, how?"<br/>"Make a bet, or two, about how fast you can learn. Winner gets to, hm..."<br/>"NINES!"<br/>"WHAT?"</p>
<p>Nines whipped around, teeth bared, the wooden splintering beneath his clenched hands. <br/>Damsel raised her hands.</p>
<p>"It's your turn."</p>
<p>Nines glowered at her but Damsel remained cheerfully unaffected, simply pointing her cards at his. He hadn't even noticed they were different now. He played his cards, barely paying attention, then turned back to the Fledgling. <br/>But the mood was gone, and it hadn't returned by the time the Fledgling was called away on their own business.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>None of their havens had survived the Anarch's hard-won victory over the Camarilla. They were still in the process of staking out new safe spaces to sleep, made at once harder and easier by their unique requirements. For now Nines' coterie and the Fledgling holed up in an old haunted house. Not the kind that housed restless spirits, but the kind that cost a tenner entry and lived entirely on people's love of Halloween. This one specifically had not survived the last autumn season, its owners having either not found or not bothered to look for a buyer. The whole contraption, once mobile, gathered mould outside town, inhabitable for a few more years before nature reclaimed this latest bounty.</p>
<p>The Fledgling had staked their claim on the tower room, replacing the trick books oozing slime with the real deal one by one. Electricity was a no go, except for the small solar bank which the Fledgling had put outside to charge their devices. Only about half the people in this house thought electricity was a necessity rather than some newfangled nonsense.</p>
<p>This was where the Fledgling went after taking care of the business that had drawn them away from the brewery. The sun had been too close to coming up, and the fatigue of the dead had been biding its time at the edge of their awareness. They didn't relish the idea of keeling over like a sack of potatoes in front of people who would never let them live it down. Even and especially if they did the exact same thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Fledgling fished for a clean pair of socks in the rucksack that passed for a wardrobe these days. Soon they'd be on the move again, hopefully into more permanent accommodations. Not mentioning the lack of any proper storage, it didn't make sense to unpack fully.</p>
<p>They'd just found a likely suspect when something hit their window. They looked up out of reflex, not expecting to see anything. As they watched a small round object hit the glass again.</p>
<p>Debating if this was one of the weirder Camarilla assassination attempts, the Fledgling crept up to the window, peering outside. Down there, half hidden in the undergrowth, throwing pebbles stood Nines Rodriguez.</p>
<p>The Fledgling blinked.</p>
<p>He was still there, looking up at them and waving when their eyes met. They opened the window.</p>
<p>"What the hell are you doing?"</p>
<p>Nines pointed at the trellis, mouthed something that may have been asking permission. Which the Fledgling gave, waving vaguely for Nines to be their guest. With the superhuman speed of a Brujah he scaled the wall, finally perching like a gargoyle on the windowsill. He was grinning, a youthful, innocent thing that wouldn't quite fit with a man continuously fighting the entire world.</p>
<p>"Why are you here?“ the Fledgling asked. </p>
<p>Nines' face fell minutely.</p>
<p>"To talk to you," he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.</p>
<p>"No, I mean why come through the window? Your room's just below mine."</p>
<p>"Because our friends are shitheads who won't let me get a word in edgewise."</p>
<p>Nines looked around the room. It was a temporary habitat, not much in the way of personal things, what few the Fledgling had kept from their mortal days and had accumulated in their brief time as Kindred. A book stood on the nightstand supposedly written by an Elder Kindred several hundred years ago that Skelter had loaned them. On the windowsill Nines had just invaded stood a small cactus, that had turned up there some night and that the Fledgling had no recollection of buying.</p>
<p>"So?"</p>
<p>Nines looked up from the book he'd been leafing through.</p>
<p>"So what?"<br/>"What's that word you want to get in edgewise?"</p>
<p>Surprisingly, Nines became more subdued. He didn't quite flinch, but he seemed suddenly just a step further away from the Fledgling without having bridged the distance in between the two points. They got the impression that if Nines had less than his usual amount of self control he would have shuffled his feet.</p>
<p>"Date?" he said, the single word for which he'd climbed through a window and probably fought through day torpor to get there before Skelter, Damsel, and Jack descended on them as a group. </p>
<p>The Fledgling crossed their arms, unimpressed.</p>
<p>"You're going to have to do better than that," they said. </p>
<p>As much as it was a dismissal, it was also a flirtatious one and it had Nines look up hopefully. Regaining that mischievous grin he pulled an honest to god rose from where he'd tucked it into his belt at his back and went on his knees, half theatrical, half earnest.</p>
<p>"Will you let me take you on a date?"</p>
<p>Sometimes it was difficult to forget that Nines was a very old man. This was a gesture of someone who in his head still thought in terms of dames and fellas. In Nines' heart, the Fledgling was a friend, worthy of admiration, even worship, but still just a person who could be wined and dined, or whatever the Kindred equivalent was.<br/>The Fledgling, eager to find out, took the rose.</p>
<p>"Where to?"</p>
<p>Nines' smile could have made the moon bubble into fullness on a moonless night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Fledgling expected something local. Griffith Park maybe, even though the werewolves were still technically looking for them. But an hour into their drive Nines had taken them out of the city, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.</p>
<p>"So where are we going?"</p>
<p>He glanced over, grinned. </p>
<p>"It's a surprise."</p>
<p>His giddy excitement made the Fledgling laugh. They leaned back in the car seat, stretched out their legs and tried to gauge by the signs where Nines might be taking them. This alone was worth sneaking out of the haunted house, knowing that if one of their friends found them they'd invite themselves along. For all that they dearly loved each and every Anarch, for all that they had gone through hell together, it was nice spending time with Nines alone, listening to him hum along to the radio. </p>
<p>They shared companionable silence that ended only when they'd entered a small town and Nines slowed the car down as he pulled into a parking spot near a dilapidated warehouse. </p>
<p>"You're pretty young," Nines said out of the blue. The Fledgling squinted at him.</p>
<p>"If this is about the age difference ..."</p>
<p>He shook his head, traced the texture in the steering wheel.</p>
<p>"No, that's not it. It just occurred to me that you've never been to a real Brujah Rant &amp; Rave."</p>
<p>"A what?"</p>
<p>Nines glanced at them, excitement lighting up his whole face. Behind them, in the warehouse, a chorus of voices swelled.</p>
<p>"Let me show you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damsel had said once that there was no party like an Anarch party. She'd been right. From the moment they entered the warehouse heat and noise and unadulterated passion nearly swept them off their feet. Ghouls, Kindred, and kine mixed freely in the open space, drinking from each other, or from the plastic cups filled with alcohol so strong they could smell it no matter where they went. </p>
<p>Nines dragged them deeper inside, towards a half-moon stage set up in the middle. On it stood a woman dressed all in black leather and silver studs, spreading her arms in sweeping gestures encompassing all of them and the world at large.</p>
<p>The Fledgling would have said she was giving a speech but it wasn't like any speech they'd ever heard. This was not the droning of a prepared statement, but the spitting furious joy of words pulled directly from the heart and echoed by the at times cheering at times jeering masses of the crowd. Everytime the woman on stage paused someone from the audience fell in with a declamation of their own. Criticism, praise, all of it was thrown back and forth easily, without rules or supervision. </p>
<p>Anarchs, all of them. Alive and coming together in a victory feast. The woman on stage spoke of the victories of their movement and the Fledgling startled, pleased and surprised, when she pumped her fist and shouted her praise for the Los Angeles Anarchs who had persevered against the Camarilla in a battle not seen since the Convention of Thorns. </p>
<p>People around them cheered. Many seemed to recognise Nines. They patted him on the back, threw their arms around him. When he introduced the Fledgling, they became subject to the same treatment. Smoothly integrated into the Anarch midst, the people around them accepted their presence like that of an old friend. </p>
<p>While another orator took the woman's place on stage, fluidly exchanging places without the need to negotiate or plan, the other Anarchs told Nines and the Fledgling of the world beyond LA. In San Francisco they'd built the largest communal haven in Anarch history, south in San Diego they were beginning to oust Camarilla controlled assets from the kine political world. Two Anarchs who'd come in from Vegas spoke in lofty tones of their plans to integrate their thinblood cousins more fully into the movement. All speaking over each other, interrupting, adding, encouraging. It was madness, chaos. It was exhilarating. </p>
<p>At some point Nines, thinking himself terribly subtle, laid an arm around the Fledgling's waist. Ostensibly to protect them from having beer spilled on them. He stuck with that story, even when the Fledgling returned that gesture of affection by laying their palm between his shoulderblades. </p>
<p>They listened as the Anarchs around them celebrated themselves and their victories, picked up snippets of conversation from their surroundings, the speeches being held - here a vicious polemic against the Camarilla, there an impassioned call to action - the passion cresting like waves when the Anarchs jostled and tussled as they shouted along to the polemics against Camarilla, Sabbat, and all the Anarchs enemies. Barely a hundred people in this place but it felt like a million, all speaking at once, all one body.</p>
<p>And that was before the music started. As the speeches petered out, bands took the stage. The first heavy thrums of bass guitars ran through their blood like pebbles in a pond. Nines pulled them forward again, up to the stage, helped by his friends pulling them in until they were surrounded by a thick crowd on all sides. </p>
<p>Afterwards they didn't remember any details. An eclectic mix of punk rock and hip hop thundered through the speakers. The rhythm took over their conscious mind, they couldn't have remained still if their life had depended on it. Somewhere vaguely they felt Nines, stomping his feet and throwing up his hands like all the rest of them, but this sensation came from far away. Carried by the beating of drums the Fledgling entered a consciousness greater than their own. As a hundred boots slammed onto the ground, a hundred pairs of hands clapped to the beat, and a hundred voices came together in one ferociously pitched chorus, the Fledgling stopped being one being. They, and Nines, and everyone around them became for just a few hours one great beast, their bodies the same, their thoughts all mixed up and mingling. </p>
<p>For the first time since their Embrace the Fledgling felt their heart beating. They could never tell if it had been the rhythm fooling them into feeling alive, or if the ghouls and kine in attendance had shared their spirit with them, passed around across the soundwaves. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was over too quickly. Eventually things began winding down. People started leaving, needing to head to their havens to escape the sun and the great beast that had taken over during the concert became smaller and smaller until it dispersed. Each person in the audience taking away a piece of it, to return it, nurture and grow it, the next time they came together. </p>
<p>Nines was laughing as he stumbled into them, listing to the side as he tried to avoid another collision. One of the ghouls had offered him a sip of their alcohol infused blood and the Fledgling reached out to steady him as it worked its magic on him. </p>
<p>Still giggling he leaned into them, his forehead against their shoulder.</p>
<p>"I don't think I can drive," he said and seemed to find this extraordinarily funny. </p>
<p>His joy infected the Fledgling too and soon they were both laughing, stumbling around trying to find alternative accommodations for the night. The first group of local Anarchs they asked offered them a sofa in their haven. The Fledgling still thrummed with exhilaration as they all piled into another car, a tighter squeeze than they'd lived with for months when they were still on the run. </p>
<p>"Everything spinning?" they asked Nines when he finally managed to sit more or less upright in the car. </p>
<p>He nodded, holding his head. It didn't seem to stifle his good mood in the least. They pulled Nines against them and half on their lap, squealed and batted at him when he nuzzled their neck and bit down. </p>
<p>"Cheeky!"</p>
<p>"Get a room!"</p>
<p>"Look how cute!"</p>
<p>The chorus wouldn't have been out of place with their own friends and so the Fledgling stuck out their tongue at the Anarchs who cooed and joked around them. One of them took this as permission to ask a question they realised had been burning on everyone's tongue.</p>
<p>"Look, I gotta ask. Are you really <i>the</i> Fledgling?"</p>
<p>They looked at the woman who'd asked, then at the round of people who stared at them with something that veered between doubt and awe. Even the driver, looking barely old enough to sit behind the wheel but probably older than they were, kept shooting them glances through the rearview mirror.</p>
<p>"<i>The</i> Fledgling?" they repeated, wondering what on earth Nines had told these people.</p>
<p>"Yeah. The one who wasted that entitled diaper-baby LaCroix."</p>
<p>"And Strauss," threw in another.</p>
<p>"And a motherfucking werewolf. Or was that Nines?"</p>
<p>Nines made a sound that did exactly nothing to elucidate the matter.</p>
<p>"We both did one," the Fledgling said by way of explanation to a chorus of impressed noises. </p>
<p>"Holy shit," said the driver. He had a big black X tattooed on the back of his right hand. "When Damsel called the other day she wouldn't shut up about you. I didn't believe half of what she said."</p>
<p>The woman who'd first kicked off this discussion added: "Damsel? You should have heard Skelter, it's like he thinks this kid is second coming of Christ. Hey are he and that ghoul ... together? What was her name?"</p>
<p>"Patty," mumbled Nines. </p>
<p>The Fledgling found their hand in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and had no memory of putting it there. </p>
<p>"Right. Are they ...?"</p>
<p>The Fledgling thought for a bit. Patty and Skelter had been getting along suspiciously well, so they supposed the rumours made sense.</p>
<p>"I don't think so. Honestly I don't know what goes on between them."</p>
<p>Best not to ask, they'd thought, but if anything the Anarchs proved tonight that they had as much passion for politics as for idle gossip. Over the course of a half hour's drive they were regaled with the social lives of all the present Anarchs and, they suspected, almost every member of the movement. The litany of names and partners and ex-partners soon bled together. Nines didn't listen in the first place. </p>
<p>He was half asleep by the time they got to their host's haven. Only their tongue in cheek offer to carry him up the stairs made him straighten up and get into the flat and to the sofa under his own strength. </p>
<p>They collapsed on it together while their, new, friends went to pass out in their own corners. A few minutes of shuffling later the flat quieted down, making way for that liminal space after a rambunctious party when only echoes of noise and exuberance remained. </p>
<p>The sofa wasn't made for two people, but a Kindred awaiting day torpor didn't have to worry about bad sleep or a crick in their back. They lay half on top of Nines, one hand curled around the nape of his neck, the other loosely entwined with his. </p>
<p>Their eyes dropped closed, listening to the sounds of an unfamiliar place, and soothed by the solid presence of Nines underneath them, when he spoke.</p>
<p>"Was that ... okay? For a first date?"</p>
<p>He sounded genuinely unsure. It made the Fledgling laugh, that he could think that they hadn't just had the best night of their entire life, heart made large by the knowledge that they were not alone in this fight. </p>
<p>"It was perfect," they said and kissed him gently on the lips. </p>
<p>He was still smiling when outside the closed curtains the sun came up and rocked them to sleep.</p>
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